Promise
by i-love-svu
Summary: GLH, ONESHOT. The end scene of 'Pirates of the Third Reich' left our minds to fill in the blanks. Well, that's what this story does.


**Disclaimer: CSI is not mine. **

**A/N: Just a little something I wrote over the weekend. Read and review, please!

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Gil Grissom slowly stopped his vehicle in front of Lady Heather's Dominion; The large ominous structure he had visited so many times before. A sigh escaped his lips as he realized he'd never been to the dominion under the current circumstances.

Lady Heather Kessler was sitting silently in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed upon something out of the windshield. She didn't blink or move her head. Gil knew she was still in shock, and this was understandable.

Earlier that evening she had nearly killed the man who had murdered her daughter. After everything had stopped and she had been processed for any evidence, Gil had offered to take her home. He knew she was in no shape to take care of herself, and had made a vow to himself to help her in any way he could.

Now, sitting outside of the large house, Heather's mental and physical status seemed to have worsened. At the scene of the attempted murder, she had been talking slightly and seemed to be alright considering what had just happened. But now she wasn't talking, and she definitely wasn't okay.

"We're here," Gil gently told her. He watched her movements, feeling extremely concerned about the woman sitting next to him.

Heather swallowed, hoping her emotions would disappear down her throat. But she had no such luck. Her breathing was shallow, almost gasping quietly for air. She blinked a few times then, very slowly, moved her gaze to Gil.

Staring at him with a distraught look upon her face, her eyes gave away several things, perhaps the biggest being that she was ready to burst into tears right there. She was near the edge, the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"We're here," Gil repeated. "Let's get you inside."

Heather nodded slowly, his words sounded distant to her even though they were a mere two feet apart. She made no moves to do anything, to remove her seat belt, to open her door, nothing at all. She sat perfectly still except for her hands, which were trembling slightly.

Gil got out of the vehicle and walked around the front of it; His shadow appeared on the tall edges at the end of the drive as he strode in front of the dimmed headlights. Reaching Heather's side of the car, he pulled the door open and took a step closer to it, reaching over her to unfasten the seat belt.

"Let's get you inside and cleaned up," Gil carefully helped her out of the car. Glancing at her clothes, he saw the fine mist of blood spatter and dirt over the majority of the front of her body.

Inside the house, Heather looked around as if seeing everything for the first time. Gil helped her out of her boots and coat, placing them by the front door. He walked away from her to turn on a few lights to illuminate the dark house.

"I-… I'm tired," She whispered suddenly. She seemed ready to collapse right there, but Gil was instantly at her side.

"You need to get cleaned up first, okay?" Gil slowly guided her up the stairs. "Then you can go to sleep."

He continued soothingly talking to her the entire way up the stairs. When they reached her room, she went into the bathroom to get ready for her shower. A she undressed, Gil sat next to the door, his eyes focused on the floor. He was still talking to her, letting her know he was still there. He didn't expect any replies; He knew she would be talking plenty when she was ready. But he assumed, and hoped, that his voice would keep her calm.

Gil stopped talking for a moment, thinking he had heard something. Seconds later, quiet sobbing could be heard through the thick bathroom door.

"Heather?" He called.

No answer.

"I'm coming in," He warned so she wouldn't get scared.

Heather was sitting on the cold tile floor, a towel draped over her shoulders. She looked up at him, revealing more smeared mascara and fresh tears upon her cheeks. It tugged at Gil's heartstrings to see her in such pain.

"It's okay," He gently said while helping her stand up. "What's wrong?" He knew it was stupid question, bearing in mind what the woman had been through the previous week.

"My hands hurt too badly to get the water turned on." Heather showed him her hands, palms red; Most likely from how tightly she had been holding the whip.

Gil moved from his spot next to her, over to the shower. He turned the hot water knob first then the cold, adjusting them until the water wasn't scalding or icy.

"Here." He outstretched his hand to her, helping her into the shower. "Let me know if it's too hot."

The water stung Heather's skin at first, that's how sore she was. After a minute of standing under the spray, her tense and aching muscles loosened and she felt very slightly better. Ten minutes passed and all she had done was stand under the shower head, letting the steamy water run down her body.

"Are you finished?" Gil was sitting on the floor outside of the shower. She didn't answer; The evening's events replayed in her head on a continuous loop, making it hard to concentrate upon anything else.

He stood up, pulling the shower door open. Heather was standing still; She looked up at the man before her, the pain still very evident in her eyes.

He detected she had not yet wash her hair; And dirt was still present on her face in spots. Putting one leg in the shower to steady himself, he picked up the green bottle nearest to him and squeezed a small amount of shampoo into his hand.

Gil took his time washing her hair, being extremely gentle. He noticed a bruise on Heather's shoulder, glancing at it briefly then looking away. He assumed the discoloration had happened earlier that evening and thought nothing more of it. He rinsed the suds off of his hands and Heather took a step backward into the water. The sweet smelling shampoo ran down her neck and back, causing her to shiver; The reason was unknown to both of them.

Heather closed her eyes as Gil carefully washed the dirt from her skin. When he had gotten all of the mud off of her, he motioned for her to step into the spray of water yet again. As she watched the bubbles vanish down the drain, Heather wished all of her pain would follow them.

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Gil walked back into Heather's room. He was carrying two plates, each containing a sandwich. Heather was sitting on her bed exactly where Gil had left her when he had gone down to the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," She immediately told. Running one hand through her damp hair, she looked near tears again, but said nothing more.

Gil sat down next to her. "You need to eat something. You wouldn't want your blood sugar to get too low."

Heather considered this for a moment, then slowly picked up one of the sandwiches before her. Gil did the same, taking a bite out of it but watching her out of the corner of his eye.

As they finished eating, Gil placed the plate on the nightstand next to the bed. "Are you still tired?" He asked.

Heather nodded, looking tremendously exhausted. She laid down, tucking her left hand under her head.

"I'll be just outside the door if you need anything," Gil softly told her as he stood up to leave.

"No," Heather whispered. "Don't leave."

Gil stood still for a moment, not sure what to do. She answered his unspoken question before he move at all.

"Please," She softly begged. "Just don't leave me."

The absolute agony in her voice made his heart skip a beat. Slipping of his shoes, Gil sat back down on the edge of the bed. He sighed quietly, laying back on the pillow, his eyes briefly closing.

Gil felt the mattress shift, causing him to hastily open his eyes.

"Heather, what's wrong?" He asked the woman, who was now sitting bolt upright.

"I close my eyes and I see her," Heather choked back her sobs. A moment of holding back the tears proved to be too much for her to handle; She rested her head on Gil's chest. Her warm tears soaked through his shirt. She clutched the neckline of his shirt in her right left hand. She tilted her head to the left, her eyes affixed upon the wall several feet from her bed.

Her body wracked with sobs. Gil lifted his right hand and rested it on her hand that was still grasping his shirt; He gently stroked her hair in an attempt to comfort her. He had no intentions of trying to stop her from crying. He knew it'd be best if she didn't bottle her emotions up.

Gil removed his hand from her head, as her sobs slowed. He assumed she had fallen asleep but that was about to be proven wrong.

"Don't let go of me," Heather softly requested. She released the section of shirt she had been holding onto so tightly. "Please."

Gil instantly began stroking her damp hair again. He said nothing, not a single word, as his finger ran through her dark hair.

"Don't leave me," She started sobbing again. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't." Gil gently ran his hand up and down her back. "I'm not going to leave," His promise left his lips just as Heather's sobs intensified.

It hurt him to see the normally strong and independent Heather in such an agony filled and vulnerable state. He continuing running his hand up and down her back, whispering soothingly to the woman in his arms.

True to his word, Gil did not leave. He stayed with Heather all night, and into the morning. Comforting her when she cried, keeping her company when she wasn't. He held her when she asked him to, wanting to do whatever he could to make her feel better. As the sun arose, he realized Heather had fallen asleep. She was lying on her back, with her head resting on his chest. Her slow, deep breathing told him she wasn't having a nightmare, and he let out the breath he had been holding. It was silent in the room, and Gil was thankful for that. He couldn't bear to listen to her sobs anymore; He realized she would crying more later, but was glad she wasn't at the moment.

Heather sighed, trembling, in her sleep, jolting Gil from his thoughts.

"You're still here?" She disbelievingly asked, wiping the semi-dry tears from her cheeks.

"I told you I wouldn't leave. I wanted to keep that promise," Gil replied. He watched her for a moment before saying anything else. "Do you need anything?"

"I just want to lay here." Heather laid back on the bed, on the pillow next to Gil. She tucked her left hand under her head and closed her eyes. Just as she was about to fall asleep, Gil spoke.

"I'll be here when we wake up," He whispered.

After his words as registered, Heather fell asleep.

Gil watched her, making sure she was really asleep. After confirming she was, he proceeded to say what he had wanted to.

"I screwed up once. It won't happen again," He continued whispering. "I'm here to help you, and I'm not leaving until you feel better. I still love you. And I want to show you that."

He ended this statement with a sigh. A moment later, Heather rolled over to face him, her cheeks tear stained.

"Thank you," She whispered. "For everything."

Gil brushed the hair out of her face. "It's no problem."

"Promise you won't leave?" Heather sleepily asked. She seemed to be very worried about him staying there with her.

"Heather, I am not going to leave." He stroked her arm for a moment to comfort and reassure her.

Clinging onto his words, Heather moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on top of her head.

As she drifted in and out of sleep, he whispered on last thing to her.

"I promise you, I am not going to leave."


End file.
